


The Grip of The Trick

by ikoliholic (makeme)



Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Breathplay, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Has Issues, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Rough Sex, Shapeshifter Loki, Sibling Incest, So does Thor, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5636917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeme/pseuds/ikoliholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored of the throne, Loki decides to pay his brother a visit on Midgard, disguised as Jane. How far will it go before Loki loses control of the game?</p><p>PWP, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Misinterpreted Perception

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I got frustrated with my current [work in progress](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5369603/chapters/12401180) that's turning out to be something of a complicated juggernaut. This got battered out over the course of a night instead. 
> 
> Timeline is Post Thor: TDW. So Loki has helped save Jane etc. etc. and is currently disguised on the throne - able to use his magic to make mischief. Or, y'know, pseudoincest.
> 
> First chapter is Thor's version of events, second chapter is Loki's. Enjoy!

_In hindsight, he really should have known…_

 

Thor wakes up unsure if he is still dreaming. He is in his own bedroom at Avengers’ Tower, and cannot remember Jane being there with him. Wasn’t she away on a press tour over on the other side of America? He could swear it. And yet there she is, beautiful, sleeping beside him. She stirs, almost as if aware of Thor’s thoughtful gaze.

“I thought you were gone away?” he asks, confusion and sleep fuzzing his mind in an almost overbearing fashion. She chuckles softly and bats her eyelashes.

“I was, silly,” her voice is gentle and only a little bit goading. “Then I came back. You were already asleep, so I woke you up. I was very, _very_ pleased to see you. Then you fell back asleep.” She chuckles again and touches his arm.

“Sorry,” Thor blushes. He is never one to behave in such a way - falling asleep when sharing a bed with someone so beautiful.

“It’s okay,” she says, stroking with delicate fingers coquettishly. “You can make it up to me now, _big boy_.”

Thor feels arousal stir at the suggestion - far more flirtatious than Jane typically dares to be. Thor remembers then that they do not get to share a bed very often at all, busy and demanding as their duties are. It feels refreshing, and even though he cannot shake off the dizzying feeling of being awoken mid-slumber, he smiles and leans in to kiss her.

Her lips are as soft as ever, but she seems for a just a fraction of a second to freeze under the touch, as though she is surprised at the action, or as though she has changed her mind. No sooner has Thor sensed this, however, she grabs the back of his neck and deepens the kiss.

After a few moments of languid tongue and lips moving together, Thor pulls away slightly to admire Jane’s form. She wears nightwear which he has never seen her in before. A silk nightdress, just a little too big on her tiny frame, green in colour — a beautiful green which reminds him of the forests of Vanaheim. It has string-thin shoulder straps which lie loose over her smooth olive skin, and as Thor slides the straps down to permit delving a hand underneath the smooth fabric toward her breasts, he notes how she inhales sharply with anticipation.

The flesh there feels different than usual, somehow, like her bosom is much fuller and slightly firmer. For a brief moment, Thor wonders if she is with child, but then he remembers that they always take above-adequate precautions. Plus, he’s not even certain that they _could_ conceive anyway, with such physiological difference… He's torn from his own thoughts and back into carnal passion however, when Jane moans in pleasure at him instinctively rubbing one of her nipples, the hardened flesh sensitive and tempting between his fingertips. He leans in to taste it, drawing further moans from her sweet mouth along with a few curses too.

He makes a trail across the sensitive flesh of her midriff, the smooth curves of her stomach quivering under his tongue, but she drags him up when he dips past her navel to abdomen.

“Less teasing and just fuck me already.”

Alarmed at the abrupt tone and words, Thor pulls away to look at Jane’s face. Something is not right. “Are you okay?” he asks, confused.

Jane is visibly shaking now, trying to calm her breath. “I am fine,” she says, sounding anything but. “Really. I just… It’s been a while since I last felt this…”

“Enamoured?” Thor says, with just a little hint of false-coyness.

Instead of agreeing with him, Thor finds that Jane leaps up and pins him down beneath her, with considerable strength he has not before witnessed. She kisses him greedily, teeth-clashing and hot, and bites at his lower lip before tonguing his jawline and throat in a most brutal way. Thor flushes crimson at her newfound ardour, and thinks that if she continues with such ministrations, he may have no choice but to bear her vicious marks on his neck for the daylight hours to come.

But right now, daylight feels as though it is centuries away and somehow ungraspable, unreal. Jane claws at the flesh of Thor’s torso with sharp, strong fingers, teasing his nipples as he had done to her in the moments before. Thor finds a strangled noise that makes its way out of his throat when she sucks at one of them, and when she shuffles downwards and takes his cock into her mouth, he outright grunts like a feral beast.

She uses her tongue wickedly, revering in the taste of his painfully hardened flesh as though she had never sampled it before, fingers digging into the muscles of his thighs.

“J-Jane—” Thor tries to speak, but she hisses at the mention of her own name and bites at his cock, so his sentence turns to dust on his tongue. After choking herself on it for a few more moments, she makes the most obscene noise as she slides the flesh out of her mouth, struggling for breath as much as Thor is struggling to think, clouded and confused daze he's in.

“I’m so wet down there, I fear I may soak the bed right through,” she manages eventually while laughing manically, wiping her mouth and fixing her hair. “Lay me on the bed and fuck me, Thor. Fuck me as though I am the sweetest thing that you have ever held beneath you.”

Thor smiles now. “But my Jane, there is no lie there. You _are._ ” He brushes hair away from her beautiful face. Instead of enjoying the compliment, Jane looks sad at Thor’s response. Her features look as uncharacteristically maddened as her words, sharper under the moonlight too, and her hazel eyes are highlighted with flecks of green not normally obvious. Thor supposes it's the effects of the new nightdress bringing out the colours.

He wishes to ask her outright why she appears so despondent now, when just before she was ever jovial and sweet, but Thor speaks better with his hands than he ever could with words. So he does as she has requested instead and lays her on the bed.

He caresses the entrance to her sex with his thick fingers, gently pushing one in and capturing the startled moan from her mouth with his own mouth as he does so. He seeks the nub of skin he desires with his thumb, and rubs it softly, slowly.

“Pretty sure—uh—” she moans as Thor trails his tongue softy over her décolletage, enjoying her over-perfumed skin, “that I told you _eons_ ago to stop teasing and just—j-just _fuck me_ already.”

Thor relents. He pushes her legs further apart and pushes himself in with one slow, torturous movement. He is in a daze, intoxicated. He starts to move, gentle and un-rushed, but his enormity makes the both of them audibly revel with each tiny movement, all stuttered breaths and gasps. Sensitive skin shudders under his touch, and then dainty fingers pierce mercilessly at his buttocks, demanding more, so he quickens the pace.

The very air around them feels thick with hazy desire; it is almost magical. Thor is consumed by something he has not before identified, and mindlessly his thrusts become relentless, maddening. Jane’s voice is the only thing he can focus on, and even that seems a hollow echo in the back of his mind.

“Yes, _yes_ , Thor,” she moans, equally as unhinged. “Just like that, oh _brother_ —”

And he freezes in an instant; the word tendrils into his mind.

He should have known. The evidence was rife, in hindsight.

Thor looks down at Jane’s kind face beneath him, and yet all he can see is now the conniving features of his brother etched in every beautiful contour.

“ _Loki_ ,” he growls, and those misplaced flecks of green widen as pupils dilate.

“What, _no_ , it’s just an expression—” Jane's voice tells him.

“ _Liar,_ ” Thor says, but instead of pulling out, he continues thrusting into his brother’s glamoured body —with viciousness, in fact— because it is nothing less than Loki deserves. 

And because he wants to.

He slaps Loki across Jane’s terrified-looking illusion of a face, since now that he _knows_ , the disguise is futile. He can smell his brother whom he had thought dead, can _feel_ his magic in the surrounding air. It is cruel, nonetheless, to see Jane’s struggling body beneath him, but for his shame he finds himself pinning it down with brute force anyway.

Thor closes his eyes out of necessity, and his brother’s shrill laugh replaces Jane’s sweetened one as he feels the form he’s thrusting into change shape, and all at once the sensation is tight, so _tight_ and unforgiving around his cock. Loki’s long legs wrap around his middle with almost piercing strength, goading him to go harder still.

His fingers clamp around Loki’s neck and he is greeted with familiar green malice when he opens his own eyes. He squeezes with considerable strength, taking perverse delight in the _literally_ strangled chokes from Loki’s mouth, while continuing to fuck into him.

“I will kill you,” he threatens in his berserker rage. “For doing this, Loki, I will kill you, I swear.”

And he almost does.

Loki’s lungs heave for air, and his exquisitely alabaster skin starts to mottle into the palest of equally exquisite blue, derivative of his rejected Jotunn form no doubt. It is only when Loki closes his eyes in submission to death that Thor removes his hands from his brother’s throat, and in his bloodlust he finds that one rakes through raven black hair while the other grabs at Loki’s cock.

His mind is swimming and Loki comes instantly — comes hard, all over himself and Thor as his entire body rattles and struggles for life.

And for his shame, this brings Thor on the path to his enraged completion also. Just a few thrusts later he spends into his brother’s tight, impossible heat while Loki knots fingers into his golden hair and kisses him tenderly on the mouth, sucking the air from Thor’s lungs with selfish love and adoration that, if Thor were in the right mind, would think him incapable of.

Begrudged, Thor drifts away from consciousness to the feel of his brother’s body against his own, hot yet cool, ardent yet spiteful— an absolute mess of contradiction, and the only thing that feels _real_ in such a state of disorientation and pleasure.

When he awakes in the morning, alone, he is certain that it was all an imagining. A dream gone wrong, and nothing more.

For it _cannot_ be more.


	2. The Grip of The Trick

Loki has had enough.

He’s had enough of sitting bored on the throne, waiting for his dumb brother to figure it all out and seek justice. He has had enough of Thanos’s distant threats, which he _knows_ will become all too real, all too soon. Even Loki cannot hide forever, after all.

He has had enough of playing Odin— had enough of Asgard and its myriad pathetic issues bubbling under the surface, ready to boil over at any given moment…

Indeed, Loki has had enough of many things at this point in his millennia-old life. But _most of all_ — out of all of his problems at this moment in time, Loki has had enough of Jane.

It surprises him at first, this utter loathing. He’d liked Jane when he’d met her, even went as far as to say it aloud; could not deny that for a mere mortal, she was at least vaguely worthy of his brother’s attention. She was attractive, too. Clever. Spirited. Threw a decent wallop. Futile and pointless when aimed at a god, obviously —but still— he admired the spirit.

So then, _why_ Loki has had enough of Jane above all else —as he watches her and Thor through a smog of seidr cast by Gungnir— he is still trying to figure out…

His magic is the strongest it’s ever been.

When he first gets the spark of an idea in the back of his mind, he thinks first about glamouring himself as Thor in order to trick _her_ into bed.

He realises some time later that this is not quite what he wants. What he _wants_ far predates any lust for power or vengeance, or any mere _Jane of Midgard_.

He wants his brother, fooled and fucking into him.

He would have it.

***

It's laughably easy to lurk in the shadows of Thor’s Midgardian chambers, not that Loki would deem them fit enough to be given such a title. More like _stable_ , given the tiny size of the room. Easier still it is to lurk, once he has drenched the place with a mist of his potent, strengthened seidr in order to aid the illusion. It stretches into every corner and crevice, soaking into all in its path under Loki’s superlative command.

He watches Thor sleep, engrossed in the rising and falling of his brother’s bare chest for a few moments before he whispers the necessary incantations he has learned specifically for this purpose.

Thor stirs, but he does not wake. Loki’s magic silently swirls and seeps into every inch of his skin, diffusing across muscles, shimmering and golden.

He has spent quite some time preparing the correct character for this night, distantly watching Jane from the safety of the throne. Unparalleled in his talent, he picks up her mannerisms and voice quickly. It is the further hours he spends studying her anatomy, so that he can get his glamour as pinpoint-accurate as possible. Loki presumes Thor will know the ins and outs of her body like a well-used and treasured map... and that thought makes him all the more vexed. 

As he looms still in the shadows, Loki tells himself it wasn’t merely because he _could_ indulge in such perversion, or that he knows it would make Thor’s blood boil if ever he found out…

He sneers at his own thoughts, but cannot hold it for too long — the seidr is almost ready. Smiling instead now, all wicked and cruel, he casts the glamour upon himself and gets into bed beside Thor. As he lies there, waiting for the magic to confuse his brother’s senses just a tad more, he keeps his eyes gently closed. Feigning sleep in the form of such a pretty little thing — however could Thor resist?

He doesn’t have to wait long before he can feel the burn of Thor’s gaze, even though his own eyes are still closed.

“I thought you were gone away?” Thor’s voice lilts, and Loki bites his glamoured lips as he opens his eyes, because he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed hearing the voice of his brother first-hand. The scent of him, the affection in his gaze.

Loki spins his webs of explanation and Thor laps it up like the foolish pup he is. Then all Loki has to do really is run Jane’s fingers across Thor’s arm and his brother is already pulling the beautiful female form into a kiss, dizzying with romance from the very first touch.

Loki panics, because it all happens so damned fast — it is just so _easy_ to get what he wanted. It terrifies him. But also, it _angers_ him.

Why had he never done this before? How many opportunities had he wasted, spending time on stupid, less amusing tricks when he could have been tongued by his big brother, unbeknownst?

But there isn’t much time to remain bitter. The illusion of Jane’s body is incredible to be encased in as Thor explores the soft, feminine curves with rough hands that Loki knows all too well, though — _regrettable thought to him now_ — only from battle.

Loki enjoys being in the female form, but he has never been touched by another disguised as a woman, so this is new. It is quite exquisite. Instead of a hardened, throbbing cock, he can feel his arousal as a low, sensuous ebb, wetness soaking through the daring green negligee he’d conjured up and crafted especially for the occasion. 

Forest green, self-indulgent as he is.

He wears no underwear of course, because where would be the fun in that? When Thor will skitter his hand toward the cunt he desires to find it ready and waiting, his face will be an image to behold. Loki is certain.

But that moment seems a long way off for the time being. Loki briefly wonders if the powerful effects of magic are taking their toll on his own concept of time too, because it all seems to be deliciously unfurled and stretched as Thor sucks at his throat gently and teases a nipple between his fingers. He cries out in pleasured surprise, further surprised when it’s not his own voice he hears.

Then Thor tongues his way across _her_ petite body. Loki worries that such _thorough_ exploration may make his brother suspect trickery is at large. This is what he tells himself as he moves away from Thor’s exploring tongue when it is _so_ agonisingly close to cunt.

It is _not_ because he wants to ensure that he comes with his brother’s cock inside of him, hard and pumping and spilling, no. Not that.

Instead then, Thor uses his fingers to play with the folds of the cunt, teases and teases until Loki is all but ready to strangle him. Why must he be so tender and loving? So skilled and considerate in this? Why does it make Loki feel nauseous and falsely adored, ambivalent, out of control…

Loki must confess that he did not expect to be so undone by his brother’s touch. He didn’t really know _what_ he expected, or how he’d react. He’d simply had enough of gazing from a distance; he wanted to claim something for _himself_. Except this — well, this is still not Loki claiming something, he realises it now. It is as steeped in lies and wickedness as any of his other recent schemes.

He is losing his grip of the trick.

Though Thor remains unaware, so does not stop his passion— he fucks into Loki gently, and Loki cannot decide if it is exquisite emotional pain or simply exquisite.

Either way, he doesn’t care. His mouth is filled with mindless stutters and moans while Thor’s own mouth is biting at throat and clavicle.

And then it happens. The rougher the action becomes, the more Loki loses it. The glamour remains perfect, but his lexicon slips.

“Just like that, oh _brother_ —”

Thor freezes above him. Loki scrabbles together some denial, but it's too late. Thor is a fool, but he is not _that_ much of a fool. He knows.

Thor slaps him across the face in rage and Loki tries to escape from beneath his brother’s ceaseless thrusts— still maintaining the guise of Jane, but using his own strength. Thor keeps him pinned, _pitifully easily_ , only burying his head into _Jane’s_ neck as he continues with the brutality.

And then Loki finds himself lost in a fleeting fit of uncontrollable, cynical laughter. Because what’s the point in maintaining the disguise any further? Yet another lie that his brother can so painfully see right through?

Loki lets go of the trick.

When he does so, Thor’s weight shifts above him, stuttering. His cock feels immediately and deliciously tight inside Loki’s hole. _So enormous and satisfying_. Loki had enjoyed enjoyed the heat of his brother sliding and throbbing into a wet cunt, but _this_ tight heat feels infinitely better; infinitely more real.

He supposes that’s because it is.

Loki tightens his legs around Thor’s waist, and Thor’s eyes fly open at the provocation, hands wrapping around Loki’s neck. He wears a similar look that Loki has seen many times before on his brother’s face — usually during the height of battle, when he was younger and much more untamed. Frenzied, lost in his own emotions. His eyes, Loki notes, are a most intense blue when he is this enraged.

Loki then wonders what Thor sees in _his_ eyes. He goes to ask him this much, but the question is quite literally choked from his throat as Thor tightens his possessive grip and continues to fuck him in violent, uncontrollable anger.

“ _I will kill you,_ ” Thor growls, intensity pouring from every cell of his being. “For doing this, Loki, I will kill you, I _swear_.”

And he almost succeeds; Loki struggles against Thor at first, but then he feels his lungs emptying, feels his own skin betray him - twisting into a most uncomely combination of Jotunn and Aesier - and he closes his eyes... It startles and terrifies him, but he is ready.

At the hands of his brother, and in the height of passion…

He doubts he could ever hope to die happier.

Instead, Thor lets go. Makes a roaring sound of pure anger and knots a fist tightly in Loki’s hair, while the other hand makes for his neglected cock. The rough touch of Thor’s fingers combined with merciless thrusting makes Loki’s orgasm rip through his body almost immediately — as his ribcage rattles and heaves for air; feeling as exquisitely powerful as the strongest of magicks Loki has ever dared to mess with, and as all-consuming as any evil that has ever befallen him.

As Thor’s completion is consequently triggered, Loki finds himself kissing his brother with ardour as he rides it out; gripping welts of golden hair around his fingers, trembling with the desperation of love.

Oh, if only his brother knew just _how_ Loki loved him. As equal and as mad as the hate, the two conflicting emotions feeding off of one another much like Thor and Loki did themselves.

He loves him. He is _in love_ with him; he will always love him.

The one truth, the _only_ truth, that Loki has to cling onto within all of his madness and despair.

The effects of the magic and the emotional torture take a toll on Thor almost immediately. Loki watches, regretful, as he tries to form sentences that he will never be able to speak, brow furrowed and jaw slack.

He rolls off of Loki instead, all the while staring at him intently. And for a few brief, torturous amount of seconds, Loki knows that Thor is aware of the spell. Watching his brother in this moment was supposed to bring Loki immense pleasure, but it only serves to provide agony instead.

Thor, ever stubborn, fights it with all of his might, but he cannot fight such magic in this way.

“Forgive me, brother. My love is ever your downfall,” Loki whispers, eyes glassy and voice sorrowful. He watches Thor’s eyes close in defeat, ill-slumber finally consuming him.

It is with even greater pain now that Loki conjures up the further enchantment required; the one that will make Thor think it all naught but a terrible dream. Before _Loki_ changes his mind.

By his own standards, Loki has won. Perhaps though, the jest was taken too far.

***

 _No_ , it isn’t Jane that he’s had enough of, Loki decides, staring down at his still-sleeping brother a few hours later. It is how Thor looks at _her_. As though she is made of the most precious of metals, or the brightest star in an infinite sky. How Loki is the singular, most volatile star in a sky of darkest black, made of frost and ice and monstrous, hideous things.

Loki had meant to leave straight away after he’d cast the magic, but found that he simply _couldn’t._ Not while his brother looked so peaceful, so blissful. Instead he’d loomed over him like a wicked shadow, staring intently. Casting darkness across golden features; sullying something beautiful with lies and chaos.

It appeared to be something of a habit.

He longs to reach out to Thor again, but he cannot, for that would break the spell.

The sun is rising and Thor will soon awaken, Loki can feel it in the air. He leaves the room much as he’d arrived — a swirl of invisible and silent mayhem.

Loki watches from the throne instead now as Thor wakes up, ever beautiful _._ Confusion is marred across his face as he glances to the empty side of the bed. Loki watches as his brother drags strong, sensual fingers across the bedsheets— as though traces of Loki’s touch would be there, had it not been all delusional. A wicked dream; a trick of the mind to be forgotten.

Perhaps, during the act, Loki had slipped up on purpose. If he knows the true answer to this, he does not want to admit it — not even to himself.

What he cannot deny however, is that it’s the look of agonised confusion across Thor’s face that finally breaks him. He swipes his hand through the cloud of seidr, throwing Gungnir to the floor with viciousness at his own mistake.

Loki should never have anything more than delusion; for everytime he tries, he finds himself wrapped in one of his own nightmares.

He wonders when Thor will discover the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, I do hope you liked it. It was fun to write! Please feel free to leave any crit/feedback/evenjustoneword if you have the time to spare. I’d much appreciate it… 
> 
> Also, if slowburn fics are your kinda thang, I have [little one on the go here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5369603/chapters/12401180). It’s an MCU/Post:AoA crossover, but focuses predominantly on MCU Thor/Loki. It’s a bit of a whirlwind journey, if I’m honest. But I’d love you on for the ride if you’re not already there!


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